Lights Flashing
by movedtopencildarts2
Summary: Would you have gone back, fixed mistakes the younger you made, and bore to realize that it was you who had been mistaken all along? Time Travel, AtoJi. Autumn V - The card that life has dealt you is a simple gun in a picture. -On Hiatus-
1. Autumn I First Prologue

**Characters: **Hyotei~

**Pairings: **AtoJirou, miscellaneous other pairings implied

**Universe: **Anime; later into the fic, it'll be a year before the anime's start (Atobe's a second year, Hiyoshi's a freshie)

**Warnings: **Fluff, angsting in later chapters

[---Prologue---]

* * *

"Never been better," Atobe says. He groans into his pillow when lights start flashing and assaulting his vision again, and his eyes flutter close.

Jirou pouts. "Aw, c'mon, 'tobe. You have around four of these each day during tournament period, so why not one now?" he pleads, shoving the pill in front of Atobe's face. Atobe immediately buries his face in his pillow like a four-year-old to medicine. Except that this person Jirou is dealing with is fourteen. "...It's strawberry flavored."

Atobe almost laughs but opts to chuck a pillow at Jirou's face instead. "Ore-sama isn't an idiot."

"Hey, your lips twitched."

Atobe tries to retrieve his pillow to bury his face in it again, but Jirou catches it in his hands. They lock gazes and Atobe refuses to say anything.

"Come on, admit it."

Atobe rolls his eyes. "Admit my undying love for you?"

Jirou can feel his voice seize up in his throat. He manages a shaky smile. "M-maybe?"

Atobe moans. "Fine, fine. I laughed. Just... I can't swallow pills." Jirou's lips quirk, and Atobe grimaces. "No, no no no, don't la—"

Jirou bursts out laughing, rolling on the bed and clutching his stomach. Atobe pouts. "I said don't laugh."

After several humiliating minutes of Atobe waiting for Jirou to finally get tired of rolling on his bed, Jirou's laughter finally dies down into snickers and giggles. "S-sorry, sorry, just..." Suddenly, Jirou starts laughing again.

Atobe crosses his arms and pouts; a very un-Atobe-like gesture, but Jirou finds that it looks kinda... cute, for lack of a better word. "Is it really that funny?"

"Bwahaha, haha, ha, okay, okay, never mind, hahaha..." Jirou waves his hand dismissively with a shake of his head, and Atobe doesn't notice his friend's hand slipping a pill into his Earl Grey.

"Hmph."

Atobe picks up his teacup and Jirou's face immediately breaks into a grin.

The rim of the cup nears Atobe's lips, and Jirou follows every millimeter movement with his eyes. Warmer, warmer—

"Hmph. You're smiling suspiciously," Atobe says (with that infuriating smirk on his lips), and he sets the cup down on the coaster on his bedside. Jirou wails. So much for his plan.

"Just," Jirou throws his hands up in the air in exasperation, "just drink the damned tea and get it over with."

Atobe lets out another 'hmph', but he complies anyway. "...You will not owe me this cup of Earl Grey as ore-sama feels generous today."

Jirou manages to catch the cup as Atobe's hands weaken.

"...This isn't aspirin."

The darkness flashes under his eyelids, and his vision is fading. In, out. In, out. His head feels like dead weight, and it falls back into his pillow. The goose down in the pillow flattens, and as Atobe looks up to Jirou one last time, Jirou sends him an apologetic smile.

The last thing Atobe sees on that first day is those pair of eyes looking at him, and all the guilt and sadness...

His eyelids feels heavy, and Atobe wills them to close.

[- - - - - - -]

"_Because I've been blind from the start."_

* * *

**Words: **541

**A/N:** This is angst~ My specialty~ Next chapters to be longer, I'm telling you.

Let me know what you think! And yes, lampshading is amazing 8DD. This fanfic will be very confusing, let me warn you.

For those of you who read until here, you will know that this fanfic will involve time travel, because it will, and because you actually read until the last line. Thanks~


	2. Autumn II Third Frame

**Characters: **Hyotei

**Pairings: **AtoJirou, miscellaneous other pairings implied

**Universe: **Anime; later into the fic, it'll be a year before the anime's start (Atobe's a second year, Hiyoshi's a freshie)

**Warnings: **Fluff, angsting in later chapters

[---Third Frame---]

* * *

Atobe wakes up, and the first thing he registers is that his bed's canopy looks so much more clearer than how he's seen it in his last session in consciousness. It's the usual speckled gray with two silvery tassels on the right side. The left only has one, the other tassel having been yanked off courtesy of Jirou. Atobe can vaguely remember Jirou saying it was a good luck charm before pulling the silver tassel off the cloth, and Atobe lets out a breathless chuckle before sitting up. His nose starts itching from some odd smell immediately, and Atobe uses up another tissue napkin.

On the end table by his bed are the lamp and two cups, one with red tea and another with earl grey. The cups don't smell like tea, and Atobe sniffs his earl grey and gets a whiff of a sort of medicine or herb; Atobe scowls at the drugged tea and pushes the cup away. The red one smells foul; simply because of having been left untouched since being poured. A small piece of paper is weighed down by the two cups reading "Sorry, I'll visit again later."

The edge of his bed smells like guava, flattened with the force of a fourteen year-old, hyperactive tennis player who rolled on it a few hours prior.

Atobe sighs, tousling his hair with a slightly numb hand. He slides his legs out from under the covers and walks over to the Victorian-aged wooden closet—no one knows why the Atobe's decided to still keep the half-rotting thing yet—and Atobe finds that the door is unlocked and ajar. There is a small patch of darkened red on the foot of the closet. _The maroon carpet's getting dirty_, Atobe notes, and he reminds himself to have it cleaned later and to tell Jirou not to drink red tea if he's just going to be spitting it all over the floor.

Atobe leaves the closet open, and the picture frames standing on the top shelf with his books glint. He takes one last glance at the photo facing his bed—a Hyotei trip to DisneySea—before yawning and leaving his bedroom for dinner.

[- - - - - - -]

Atobe looks up at the gray of his bed's canopy, then to the clock hanging on the wall. Eleven hours into the night.

Specks of light start flashing in his vision again, and Atobe groans. He buries his face into his pillow (which, irritatingly enough, decided to keep the smell of Jirou's guava shampoo on itself) and lets out several wheezes. Today is just not his day.

It just gets worse when his closet decides to explode itself, and Atobe freezes. His back is turned from the closet, and he may be able to roll down off the bed and call authorities—

"Owowow, fuuuu..."

For a moment, Atobe feels like he's being choked.

"...Jirou. What were you doing in my closet."

"...Did you ask a question? Ahaha, I think you did, or maybe I was just mistaken—"

"What were you doing..." Atobe rolls over on his other side, scowling at the 'orz'ed position of his teammate and yelling at Jirou to get up. "...in my closet?"

Jirou does get up, and he grins sheepishly. "Oh, hiding."

"From who?"

It's when Atobe smells the burnt smell—most definitely gunpowder—that he shoots up from his bed and yanks the lamp on his bedside on.

[- - - - - - -]

"_The sky... looks too blue today."_

* * *

**Words: **591

**A/N:** There is a reason why the description at the beginning is detailed. Lampshading, I'm telling you. And I decided to keep the chapters at around this length as I'm getting a bit busy now.

Oh, and listen to Reasoner's (at newgrounds) "Living Transparent"~! It's the best thing ever. I love you. I wish I could play piano like you; I can only play violin. Edit: No wait, all the songs Reasoner makes are amazing.


	3. Autumn III Third Photo

******Characters:** Hyotei

******Pairings:** AtoJirou, miscellaneous other pairings implied

******Universe:** Anime; later into the fic, it'll be a year before the anime's start (Atobe's a second year, Hiyoshi's a freshie)

******Warnings:** Fluff, angsting in later chapters

[---Third Photo---]

* * *

Jirou catches the teacup as it falls from Atobe's hands. The way Atobe looks at him (and he's not sure how—is it hate, confusion, sadness, betrayal?) tugs on his conscience, but after a minute of staring at Atobe with steely eyes does Jirou remind himself what to do next.

He grabs a note he's written beforehand out of his pocket, places it on the end table by the bed and sets Atobe's cup on one corner of the paper. He places his (untouched) cup of red tea so that it weighs down on the opposite corner of the note.

"Sorry," the note reads. Jirou frowns and adds, "I'll come back later," with one of Atobe's spare pens before turning around and heading for Atobe's closet.

[- - - - - - -]

Jirou looks down at his wristwatch. Six hours into the night.

Atobe sighs. "So you've seen him."

Jirou replies with a halfhearted chuckle. "...Yeah."

Atobe lets out a 'hmph' in response. "Did the pill come in handy or did you knock him out?"

And Jirou looks at him with a 'Why the fuck would I do that' face. "Of course I used the pill," he says, but Atobe waves a hand in dismissal.

"Bring the photos. We're leaving after ten minutes."

Atobe shoves Jirou towards the closet, and Jirou grabs for a familiar photo of a bedroom and jumps in.

[- - - - - - -]

Jirou falls out of the photo frame and lands flat on his face. He moans, rolling over to lie on his side, and he cups his face in his hands.

The door closes and Jirou yelps in surprise. Out of reflex, he rolls under the closet and curls into a ball, but there's no one inside the room besides himself. From the smell from outside, it looks like it's time for Atobe's buffet-slash-dinner. His wristwatch says it's been two minutes since his arrival, and Jirou rolls out from under the closet to sit up and get a good glance of the room.

The first thing he notices is the bed canopy with one tassel missing. Jirou cuts off another one, this time one from the right side, and puts it in his pocket with the other one with a wry smile.

"Okay," Jirou mumbles, stretching his arms up in the air. They crack softly in place, and Jirou sighs. "No more stalling. Time for business..."

Business equaling Jirou shoving as much photos—leaving empty picture frames—in his messenger bag and hiding the empty frames deeper into Atobe's closet, minus one of Hyotei's DisneySea merrymaking and another of an Atobe-hosted slumber party.

And thus, his messenger bag is almost full, and Jirou slips a hand into one of the last standing photo frames.

[- - - - - - -]

Jirou greets Atobe with a disappointed smile.

"Ready to leave?" Atobe says with his (copyright) infuriating 'holier-than-thou' smirk, then follows it with his (trademark) hair-flippy motion.

Jirou looks at his watch again, more in habit than anything else, and it says it's some fifty minutes before seven. Did he take that long? (Well, the pillow smelled good...) "...I guess."

Atobe frowns. "Didn't see him there?"

Jirou turns around. "Let's get going."

Jirou digs in his bag and frowns as he finds a photo; worn, tinting brown on the edges and corners, of a garden. (Jirou's idiot mind starts listing off—Aconite, Henbane, Oleander—) The date on the lower right says it's been taken two years ago on July.

"Hmm," is all Atobe says, eying the photo critically, and Jirou grabs on Atobe's arm as they leave for the familiar scenery of seven years ago.

[- - - - - - -]

_"__The smell of lavender on the pillows isn't enough." _

* * *

**Words: **630

**A/N:** It's a cliffie. I'm an idiot. I'm sorry ;_;.

Leave a review? Because, you know, if no one's interested, I may as well hiatus-fy this first and focus on ChibiPuri.

Oh, and you better read the last A/N at the first chapter if you haven't~! Kufufufu~


	4. Autumn IV Second Frame

**Characters:** Hyotei

**Pairings:** AtoJirou, miscellaneous other pairings implied

**Universe:** Anime; later into the fic, it'll be a year before the anime's start (Atobe's a second year, Hiyoshi's a freshie)

**Warnings:** Fluff, angsting in later chapters, time travel

[---Second Frame---]

"Oh," Jirou says, and he scratches the back of his neck sheepishly before adding, "hiding."

Atobe cocks an eyebrow at this. "From who?"

It's when Atobe smells the burnt smell—most definitely gunpowder—that he shoots up from his bed and yanks the lamp on his bedside on. Jirou tumbles back into the closet and shuts it close from inside, but Atobe scrambles off his bed and grabs the door handle.

"Jirou," Atobe hisses, tugging at the closet door handle. Jirou still has his hand on the side of the closet door, and pulls it inward. "Let go of this door right _now _and tell me why you smell of gunpowder."

From inside the closet, Jirou squeals, "Ah, I found it!"

Suddenly, white explodes all around him, his ears ring, and Atobe falls backward. He clutches his head and grits his teeth, trying not to scream, keep under control, don't scream, check for concussion and bleeding, call authorities—

His fingertips brush against something wet on the carpet.

Looking at the closet, Jirou doesn't seem to be holding it anymore as the doors are ajar and creaking. Atobe brings his fingertips to his face and can feel his throat clench at the sticky red on his fingers.

[It wasn't red tea after all.]

Atobe jumps to his feet and yanks the door open, almost tearing it off its hinges. He grabs Jirou's hand and pulls, blindly tugging and hoping that Jirou's coming back, unhurt, and that the sticky red thing on his carpet is just red tea and that Atobe's assuming wrong.

Jirou doesn't seem to be budging, and Atobe looks down to see the hand he's pulling at halfway in through a photo.

"Jirou? Jirou!" Atobe hollers, and he bends down to swipe the photo while keeping his grip on Jirou's wrist tight. He steps on the photo's corners and yanks at Jirou's hand, and when Jirou comes popping out, a bright light flashes in Atobe's vision and stuns him for a moment.

He manages to catch a glance of the photo and the moment he sees his eyes—his own blue-grey eyes, staring at him through the photo, the photo seems to fold in on itself and disappears.

"Shit, shit, shit," Jirou curses, and he shoves Atobe back down on the bed. Atobe's eyes widen, his vision all hazy, and he can smell all sorts of things like his drugged tea, the gunpowder, the _blood_, Jirou's guava shampoo's fragrance on his bed covers. He can feel bile rising up his throat, his head wanting to burst out of his skull, and he considers going back to sleep (because, he assures himself, this is all a dream) and waking up to find Jirou with him, not holding a gun…

He yields his vision to black as one, two, three lights dance around under his eyelids.

But, Atobe can't just ignore everything, as the stench of blood circles heavier in the air, and he peeks an eye open to see Jirou holding a gun and the rounds flying all around him. Atobe, for once, is scared, and he misses those cheerful, amber eyes when now, there are cold, narrowed eyes aiming in dead precision in their place, and he misses those warm hands and pretends not to see the fingers pulling unhesitatingly at the trigger. He misses Jirou's easygoing smile and tries to wish this fake, this look-alike away.

Atobe closes his eyes and forces himself to sleep, humming a lullaby under his breath.

[- - - - - - -]

"_The lullaby can't be heard over the sounds following each click of the trigger."_

**Words: **594

**A/N: **Expect regular cliffies, lol. I can't help it~

Leave a review? Because if SilveWhiteDragon seems to be the only person interested, and I'll just hiatus-fy this first. Sorry to SilverWhiteDragon, if ever I do end up putting this on hiatus.

**Review Responses:**

SilverWhiteDragon – LOL, did this help clear the last chapter up any? 8D


	5. Autumn V Second Photo

**Characters:** Hyotei

**Pairings:** AtoJirou, miscellaneous other pairings implied

**Universe:** Anime; later into the fic, it'll be a year before the anime's start (Atobe's a second year, Hiyoshi's a freshie)

**Warnings:** Fluff, angsting in later chapters, time travel

[---Second Photo---]

"Shit, shit, Atobe!" Jirou yells, groping around in his bag for a picture, "Get away from there!"

Atobe grits his teeth, pulling harder at the little child—Atobe from before seven years—and trying to pull him to run. He coughs, waving his hand in front of his face in a vain attempt to get the tear gas away. "I know, but, shit, Keigo! I know you're smarter than this!" he snarls, directing his glare at the younger Atobe. The younger Atobe doesn't even shrink in fear, but shrugs and starts running with him unenthusiastically.

Jirou is squinting through the heavy tear gas around him, leafing through the bunch of photos in his hands—there's one of his bedroom, another of Hyotei, another of the tennis courts at Atobe's house, and finally, he finds the one he's been looking for: the photo of the closet in Atobe's bedroom. "Here, found it!"

"Right!" Atobe hollers, and he grabs younger Atobe's hands and moves them to the younger's own ears. He then covers his own ears with his hands.

Jirou lays his hand on the photo. He racks his brain for a date, _any _date, and the first that comes to mind is _July five, seven years from default_, and suddenly his hand slides into the photo.

"Jirou, look out!"

Jirou turns around, trying to find Atobe, and Jirou finds him only to see him being restrained by those hooded attackers. Two of the five attackers have drawn out their guns, and Jirou yanks his hand out of the first photo as the two of them shoot at him at the same time. Jirou catches one bullet with the photo, the bullet breaking into the ceiling of the place captured in the photo, but the other bullet grazes his shoulder.

Jirou pulls out a playing card with a picture of a gun from his bag and waves it around in the air threateningly. He slips a hand into the photo and grabs the revolver inside it. Immediately, he yanks it out, weighing the newfound metal of a revolver in his hands, and shoots at the three holding Atobe down. The attackers jump back to dodge, and Atobe rolls away.

"It's ready!" Jirou says, and he drops the gun on the ground. He jumps into the picture of Atobe's bedroom, and Atobe follows after him, ducking down to reach the revolver. Atobe turns around and shoots at the hooded attacker holding the younger him (who seems to think the whole thing a fascinating play), and for a moment, the hood slips off.

All he sees is a flash of—was that brown? Or black?

[- - - - - - -]

Jirou slumps against the closet wall, greedily gulping in air for his lungs, and his adrenaline gives way to painful tiredness. He looks up to the closet ceiling, where the bullet he had caught with the photo made a hole. He scoots to the side, finding that he had been sitting on a photo of a garden dated two years ago, and Atobe pops out of the photo, dragging along with him a younger Atobe.

Atobe chucks the gun to Jirou's face, but a blank photo is covering the blond's face. The gun falls into the empty photo, as still and unreal as any normal photo. And yet, it is a normal photo; as normal as it could be in Jirou's hands, at least.

"So, Atobe," Jirou pants out, stuffing both photos into his bag, "Did you get the bedroom closet's photo when you came here?"

Atobe shakes his head. "Was I supposed to?"

Jirou quickly digs in his bag, and when he finds a photo of the Atobe mansion doorstep, he sticks it to Atobe's forehead. Immediately, Atobe is sucked in, along with the younger Atobe, both without protest. Jirou stands up, and when he tries to open the closet door, he finds it locked. He prepares to tackle it down, bracing his body and holding the playing card between his teeth.

[- - - - - - -]

"_The playing card that life has dealt you."_

**Words: **664

**A/N: **Expect regular cliffies, lol. I can't help it~

Leave a review? And no hiatus, at least.

**Review Responses:**

SIlverWhiteDragon – Oh, well, there's no more hiatus, seeing as new reviewers popped up. Thanks for your continued support!

Animesrule9 – Kufufu~

Nagisha – Oh, thank you! And yes, I suppose that some are just kinda lazy to interview, lol. I tend to review the ones I find so mind-bogglingly amazing or the ones that need concrit, haha.

By the way, chapter order is in something like this: Frame - Photo - Frame - Photo - Frame - Photo - Album - Album - Album. Frames are in Atobe's POV, Photos in Jirou's, Albums are for tying loose ends. The fic will be around 36 chaps at 500-ish words each.

And if it's confusing, stop complaining, because fics like these are made to be explained at the middle and end 8D.


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